Behind the Closed Door
by Super Jet
Summary: It's a short oneshot about what's going through Elizabeth and Darcy's minds as the other is talking to her father about marraige. I'm not very good at summaries. Please review!


**A/N: I absolutely love this movie and felt like writing something for it. Please review.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Pride and Prejudice or any of it's characters.**

Miss Elizabeth Bennet paced back and forth in front of the closed door to her father's study. She knew that behind that black piece of wood her father and Mr. Darcy were engaged in a conversation that would change her life. Hopefully, everything would go according to plan.

She and Mr. Darcy had discussed everything earlier, walking hand in hand through the cool morning mist. He would come back with her to the house and ask her father's permission for her hand in marriage. If all went well, Darcy would handle the problem with his aunt within the next few days. Mr. Bennet was the only risk in the plan. Elizabeth knew that her mother would heartily consent because Darcy was rich, but Lizzie was always her father's favorite and it was quite possible that he may not find a suitable match for her in Mr. Darcy.

As her feet marched back and forth in front of the door, Elizabeth thought of the strange and wonderful journey that had brought her to this moment. It is amazing how fickle love can be. One minute she loathed him with all her being and the next she was trying to calm her beating heart as he walked through the field towards her. When was it that this quiet and reserved man started loving her? Was it when she mocked his views of accomplished women at Netherfield, or was it when she walked away from him in defiance at the ball where they met? Either way, it hardly seemed to matter now. She laughed at the absurdity of the entire situation, and finally rested her feet by leaning against the wall. Why was love so unpredictable? She didn't have time to answer her own question because the ominous door jerked open. Mr. Darcy walked stiffly past her as she hurried into the room. She noticed nothing about his expression until she turned to face him. Was that a smile on his lips or sorrow in his eyes? Lizzie searched his piercing gray stare for any clue as to how her father had answered. All she saw was an urging gaze as if to say "Go and end my agony."

"Close the door, Elizabeth." Her father's voice seemed distant to Lizzie, as if a dream. She slowly pulled the door closed, unable to tear her eyes away from the man she loved. It was as if he held a strange force over her. Finally, she gave one last smile and closed the door.

* * *

Mr. Darcy sat on a bench outside the house staring at the ground with his elbows on his knees. Everything was out of his hands now. He felt as if he had control over nothing and it terrified and exhilarated him at the same time. It was all up to Elizabeth now. He only prayed that she could convince her father that she was not indifferent, as he believed her to be. It is a strange and wonderful feeling, being in love. Even sitting here now, his heart was beating and aching in his chest as if the waiting was slowly killing him. Perhaps if he walked around a bit it would help.

He never imagined that he would care nothing about money or status or even propriety. He knew that the remaining Bennet women were not far off watching his every move, and strangely, he didn't care the slightest. He only wanted one thing, to finally be able to hold Elizabeth in his arms and call her his own, to call her Mrs. Darcy.

He knew that she loved him. He had seen it in her eyes and heard it in her voice when he brought Mr. Bingley back to the Bennet home and that morning in the field, for it was the same way he looked and addressed her. Hopefully, her father could see the same passion.

Inside the house, he heard a door open and footsteps running towards the door. He turned just in time to see Elizabeth stop herself in the door frame. His heart stopped beating, but he stood erect, daring not to go near her until he knew how her father had ruled. She was crying, but he could not tell if they were tears of joy or sorrow. He longed to go to her and take her in his arms to comfort her, but waited for an answer, as a gentleman would do. Then, as if an answer to his prayers, she smiled and ran into his waiting arms.


End file.
